And there was light

A week ago, darkness descended upon our house courtesy of a scheduled power outage. I wasn’t worried; we were well-prepared for the day. It would be back by 4pm, they said. So we busied ourselves by reading, playing Ludo, and making tea on our camping stove. It didn’t worry us that our phone batteries were about to die. We were enjoying the experience.

Then, 6pm came and went. Still no power. Liars. Darkness descended outside too. Thank you, winter. Heavy downpour didn’t help either. We were in for a long dark cold night.

There were a few thoughts that swirled inside my head as I waited for the power company to get their act together:

• How did our ancestors survive this day in day out? We’ve camped several times before but not with a 5-month old baby. How did parents protect their young ones when the conditions became so harsh? Did they feel helpless? Evolution doesn’t feel like a friend when it is personal.
• Wood fire, lamps, candles, electricity – how curious were those who wanted to bring light to the world? Necessity is truly the mother of invention.
• My childhood minus the 24/7 lure of a screen scrolling for news, updates, random, senseless videos – how cool was that when imagination ran havoc inside our heads? We have a vast library of information at our fingertips yet curiosity does not kill any cats anymore.

Carl Sagan’s words ring true but fall deaf on our blind generation:

Science is more than a body of knowledge; it is a way of thinking. I have a foreboding of an America in my children’s or grandchildren’s time — when the United States is a service and information economy; when nearly all the key manufacturing industries have slipped away to other countries; when awesome technological powers are in the hands of a very few, and no one representing the public interest can even grasp the issues; when the people have lost the ability to set their own agendas or knowledgeably question those in authority; when, clutching our crystals and nervously consulting our horoscopes, our critical faculties in decline, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what’s true, we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness.

The Demon-Haunted World by Carl Sagan

The highlight of my dark day was Zaheer discovering shadows. As I flew butterflies and horses galloped, I saw how enthralled he was watching the shadows dance on the wall. Not all was lost. Not all was dark.